


Recalibration

by Thevoidbetweenus



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Chronic Illness, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, MadaTobi Gift Exchange 2020, So is Izuna but he's still kind of a little shit, Soulmate AU, Soulmates, Soulmates - Bodyswap, They both have a lot of emotions and do in fact sort them out, hashirama is a good friend, im gonna level with y’all: this fic is basically I love Madara the documentary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22811998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thevoidbetweenus/pseuds/Thevoidbetweenus
Summary: Tobirama finds himself needing some mental re-calibration when he discovers his soulmate is an Uchiha.Madara is fairly certain he's going to die alone surrounded by cats.They do eventually sort their emotions out, but it's a journey to get there!
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 22
Kudos: 357
Collections: MadaTobi Gift Exchange 2020





	1. Oops, my soulmate is an Uchiha

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mike_H](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mike_H/gifts).



> This is a gift for @a-kid-named-hiro over on tumblr in the MadaTobi Gift Exchange 2020! I hope you enjoy ^_^

Tobirama swings both legs over the side of the bed and stands up, rubbing his sleep-crusted eyes then opening them to find a bedroom that is most assuredly _not_ his own. 

The walls are grey, the carpet is black, the furniture made from cherry wood. He has a bad feeling he knows where this is going. 

Reluctantly, he glances behind him at the comforter.

_That’s definitely a Uchiha crest embroidered on the top._

Great.

So, his soulmate is an Uchiha. _Not off to a great start,_ he has to admit, is his first thought. Perhaps that is a bit harsh. Maybe they’re a civilian. (At least, he can hope they're a civilian). Either way, there’s a lot to unpack here. Someone he’s going to owe an apology to. _Later._

He stands, ignoring the soreness of his soulmate’s body. Nothing too unusual there, really. Maybe they’re an avid runner. _It’s not because they’re a shinobi it’s not because they’re a shinobi it’s not because they’re a shinobi-_

He goes to their desk, rummaging around through the veritable mountain of paperwork. It’s probably not a good sign that he sees so much. His brows furrow as he reads through a particularly long letter from the Senju clan regarding building plans for the village. Well, they’re definitely not a civilian. Maybe they’re just a low ranking officer, then? Yes. Surely that’s it. 

He stares down at his hands - well, his soulmate’s hands - and sees scarring from what he can only guess is years of abuse of fire style. Well, that’s probably to be expected. 

Then he spots the gunbai in the corner of the room, and his heart sinks. Surely, it’s not - there’s no way. Yet, he knows but one man who uses a gunbai in battle. He squints (whoever his soulmate is has terrible vision, they should really get it checked out), exiting the small bedroom in search of a bathroom. Might as well rip the band-aid off and take a look in a mirror. He peeks inside of a door, finding nothing but a sleeping lump under blankets in it, before finally finding one.

He has to resist the urge to screech upon seeing his soulmate’s reflection. Deep bags under his eyes, a mane of thick hair framing his gaunt cheeks - 

It just had to be Madara Uchiha, didn’t it?

His eyes narrow as he examines Madara in the mirror, trying to process the news. His cheeks are thinner than they used to be - hell, he is downright haggard. His pajamas hang loosely off of his too-slender frame. Madara is...smaller, underneath his blustery personality. He frowns, trying to run a hand through the tangled mess Madara calls hair. He resolves to comb it. _Doing something nice for his soulmate is completely reasonable, yes? Nevermind the years of avoidance and mistrust and hatred for the Uchiha -_

He worries it won’t be that simple. In all fairness, it probably _shouldn’t_ be that simple. Hell, his first instinct upon discovering his soulmate was an Uchiha was dread.

This will require some mental recalibration. _He can practically hear Hashirama’s nagging about “not being so prejudiced towards the Uchiha.” Yeah, he probably deserves that._

No time for that now, though, because with that comes guilt and processing emotions (and that is hardly his favorite pastime). 

He shuffles back to Madara’s bedroom, hoping that no one else is awake so that he can work on his Madara impersonation. All he has to do is find his own body again, and then everything could get back to normal. Hopefully. Supposedly. _But that requires Madara’s cooperation, and that’s...a concern. To put it mildly. What if he’s not happy about this? What if._

Tobirama feels that it’s hardly a _what if_ , but it’s also kind of his own fault. (Definitely his own fault, but he isn’t ready for that yet.) 

“Madara? You’re up early,” he hears a sleepy voice say. He turns, squints again, and finds _Izuna_ staring up at him expectantly. Shit.

It’s not as if he and Izuna aren’t friends, or anything - they are! It’s just...well, Tobirama wasn’t exactly prepared to have to pretend to be his older brother. Their friendship isn’t like that. 

“Oh...yes, I was just…” he trails off for a moment, the experience of speaking with someone else’s voice admittedly unsettling. Madara’s voice is actually rather nice, he thinks vaguely. “Washing my face.”

Izuna rubs his chin, narrowing his eyes. “Your face is _quite_ dry,” he comments, much more awake now. Little shit. 

“I dried it off,” Tobirama deadpans, finding his usual tone more pleasant in Madara’s voice (though he’d never, not in a million years, admit that). Izuna snorts.

“Mhm. Well, ‘Madara,’ I’ll let you get back to your important clan head business, then. Call if you need anything.” The impish smirk Izuna gives him fills Tobirama with a sense of dread. He curtly nods (though he recognizes his error immediately, because he doubts this is how Madara acts. He curses his past self for not paying attention), then slips into his soulmate’s bedroom. _It’s still a little hard to believe, really, that Madara is his soulmate. Someone is having a great laugh over this, in the heavens._

The room is not decorated as ostentatiously as one would expect from a clan head. At least, Hashirama’s room is far more plush. Madara’s room is…sort of plain, honestly. He makes his way to the desk, sitting down amongst the slew of paperwork and pinching the bridge of his nose. This is...a lot to process. Instead of doing that though, he rummages through the drawers. Pushing aside bottles of various pills, he soon finds what he is searching for: a comb.

Vaguely, he realizes he is in fact _quite_ hungry, but he doesn’t want to risk facing Madara’s little brother again just yet. How _does_ the Uchiha act around him, anyway? He begins to comb through the mop of hair, not making much headway but finding it a sufficient distraction. The teeth of the comb catch on several knots, but he persists.

Perhaps he’ll skip out on breakfast. He gets the sense that Madara usually does so anyway. Chatting with Izuna like this sounds like more stress than he can handle just now.


	2. Time to Adopt Ten Cats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, Madara does not feel like his life is spiraling out of control, thank you very much.

The first indication that something _isn’t quite right here_ is that the world isn’t fuzzy when he opens his eyes. Madara blinks a few times, adjusting to it. What, was his sight magically cured overnight? A cursory glance at the canopy over his bed tells him this isn’t the case.

He doesn’t _have_ a canopy over his head, after all. So. It’s finally time to learn who his soulmate is.

He can’t help the excitement practically buzzing underneath his skin - it’s no secret that love is something _vitally_ important to the Uchiha, and he’s been looking forward to this day for years. Soulmates...like something out of a fairy tale! Usually this whole body-swap thing occurs earlier in a person’s life, so Madara would be lying if he said he hadn’t worried that perhaps he _didn’t even have one_. Or that they’d died already, or that he was simply unloveable. He stands, instinctively running a hand through his hair. So it’s short - okay.

Not Hashirama, then. Izuna will be surprised. Truthfully, Madara is not. Hashirama is very important to him, of course - but he’s never thought of his best friend romantically. Hashirama is certainly his ride or die, but not in that way.

He surveys the room, searching for something identifying. The room is fairly sparse, with few decorations. The comforter on the bed is red, the walls are a pale blue color. The furniture made from what he thinks is elm - expensive. All somewhat telling, certainly. However, it is an old faceplate hanging from the wall - with a Senju crest engraved along the top - that really makes him pause.

Ah.

Well.

That brings back...memories.

He abandons the bedroom temporarily, in search of a washroom. A mirror will clear any doubts he may have. He’s still excited, trying not to deflate despite the likely identity of his soulmate. He reaches the restroom, shutting the door with care and locking it. He steps in front of the mirror and stares at the reflection of Tobirama Senju.

His heart sings, but his mind isn’t telling the same tale. He reaches a shaky hand up to touch one tattooed cheek, unable to help his little smile. “Hm…”

He’s had a bit of an embarrassing crush on the younger Senju brother for some time now, which in hindsight makes sense he supposes. Still. As exciting as this is, he can’t help the pit in his stomach. Tobirama...well...

To say he dreads the impending rejection would be an understatement.

Tobirama won’t even stand in the same room for more than five minutes. And yeah, _maybe Madara is a little abrasive and hard to get to know, it’s not like he’s going to bite Tobirama’s head off, or anything! He’s really trying here._

He sighs, padding out of the washroom and trying not to feel disheartened. It’s fine that his soulmate hates his guts. Totally fine. No worries at all. 

He’ll just adopt some cats, or something, and be a hermit. It’s fine. _Totally fine and not soul-crushing at all, hahahaha._

_On the bright_ _side,_ he thinks, _even if my soulmate would rather die than date me, I’ll be dying soon enough anyway probably. Better get on that cat thing soon. Izuna might not want them though, so maybe I’ll have to revise my plan. Die alone surrounded by nothing but sadness and crushing despair._

He laughs, eyes stinging a bit as they water. So maybe he’s being a tad dramatic - sue him. He’s allowed to be dramatic after discovering his _other half_ most-likely-probably hates him. Madara wipes his eyes, vainly trying to stop his tears. _Stupid_ , he chides himself, _a shinobi shouldn’t cry over such a thing._

He stares at Tobirama’s face in the mirror a moment longer before leaving the washroom. He knows he could just make a beeline for his own body, but...he’s really not prepared for that conversation just yet. He hates to admit when he needs someone to lean on, but talking to Hashirama sounds like just what he needs.

* * *

“Hashirama.”

The hokage looks up from the desk in his bedroom, eyebrow quirked. It’s hardly unusual for Tobirama to be awake at such an hour, but to greet him without the signature “anija” is strange. “Hello, otouto,” he replies, smiling brightly despite this. “Is something wrong?”

Tobirama stares at him for a few moments before nodding, his lower lip quivering. “I’m not Tobirama,” he says. “I’m Madara.”

Hashirama’s eyes go wide. “Oh,” is all he can think to say. His brain is, per say, buffering. 

“Yeah.”

“So...you and Tobi…”

“Yes.”

Hashirama studies Madara’s expression for a moment before standing from his chair. “Are you okay?” he asks. He figures the answer is no, but it’s always best to get feelings out in the open.

(His little brother would certainly disagree.)

Madara’s smile is watery. “Oh, I’m excited as hell. But I’m pretty sure my soulmate hates my guts.” He sniffles. “It’s a bit difficult, I won’t lie. I’ve always grown up dreaming of this day, you know?”

There are a few tears on his cheeks. _Big brother mode activate._ He hasn’t seen Tobirama cry since he was a small child, and Madara has only cried around him once or twice before. _‘Which means he’s really hurting, and he trusts me enough to show it. I have to do something.’_

Hashirama’s expression softens. “I do know.” He pauses just for a moment (he’s been working on the whole respecting boundaries thing, but then again Madara’s never been against physical contact anyway) before giving his best friend a tight hug. “It’s going to be okay, Madara. I promise. Tobi doesn’t hate you, he’s just abrasive!”

This doesn’t seem to console the Uchiha, unfortunately. “How can you be so sure? He can’t even stand to be in the same room as me.”

“He feels guilty about Izuna.” Hashirama does his best to sound certain. His little brother hasn’t exactly wanted to talk about Madara and why he’s so damn avoidant of him. He has an idea, sure, but he thinks that’s for Tobirama to sort out himself. 

“Tch, Izuna is fine by now, and those two are _friends._ I find that hard to believe.” Madara remains unconvinced. Fair enough. Madara has always been a bit skeptical, a bit paranoid (which has served him well, most of his life).

Hashirama worries his lip. “Well, I suppose you have a point…” he admits. “But it’ll work out - we’ll figure something out, we always do!”

“I don’t want to _cajole_ your brother into tolerating me,” is the mumbled reply. Hashirama puffs his cheeks out. 

Dealing with angry Madara is easy enough. Sad and dejected Madara? A bit of a different story. Still, he has to try - so he puts on his brightest smile. “You know, my baby brother is a bit dense at times. Sometimes _he_ doesn’t even realize what he wants. Let me handle it. He’s bound to come looking for me in your body to figure out where you are. I’ll knock some sense into him.” Hashirama pats Madara on the shoulder, hoping this cheers him up.

It does _something,_ at least. Madara quirks a brow up at his best friend then laughs. “I’m glad I came to you, Hashirama,” he says, elbowing the other man gently in the ribs. “I think I’m going to meditate in the woods. Thank you.” He pulls away from the hug after giving Hashirama a squeeze. “You don’t really have to talk to him if you don’t want to. I’ll figure it out. He has to come find me eventually or he’ll be stuck in my body.” He smirks, though Hashirama senses that it’s more of Madara putting on airs than anything (which is fair enough, he supposes). 

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t sincere,” the Senju replies, his smile widening. “I’m glad you came to me. I’m always here for you, Madara. I mean it.”

“I know you do,” is the soft reply. Madara flashes him another smile before drifting out of the room. Hashirama runs a hand through his hair, unsure if he had really helped all that much, but thankful Madara had come either way.


	3. Bad At Pretending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobirama has an awful poker face.

“Hashirama,” greets Tobirama in Madara’s body, curt and trying to avoid eye contact. His strategy is to appear grouchy and like he’s having a bad day (which, to be fair, he kind of  _ is _ having). He knows surprisingly little about his brother’s relationship with the Uchiha, besides that they are the best of friends (which doesn’t exactly bode well for his ruse, honestly).

He needs to find Madara, however, and Hashirama is his best bet. Unfortunately, his plan isn’t exactly working. Hashirama stares at him in concern, brows furrowed and nose scrunched just a little. 

Tobirama wonders, vaguely, why Hashirama and Madara aren’t the ones who are soulmates. Wouldn’t that make more sense? Hashirama is the warm, inviting one...better than  _ the Senju demon who almost killed Madara’s brother _ , right? He’s dreading the confrontation with his soulmate (though, admittedly, he yearns for his own body. This fire-style business isn’t for him). 

“Are you alright, Madara?” Hashirama interrupts his thoughts. “You look...upset.” Tobirama could swear his older brother is smirking now, but maybe it’s just his imagination. 

“It’s nothing,” Tobirama hisses in response - it isn’t hard to act like a petulant child around his older brother. Maybe Madara is onto something, there. “Where is Tobirama?” he demands.

Hashirama blinks. “Did he do something?” 

Tobirama finds he hasn’t thought this far ahead. Stupid. Isn’t he supposed to be the careful planner? A genius? A prodigy? “Well, no - I simply need to speak with him.”

The other man tilts his head. “Since when do you just  _ chat  _ with Tobirama?”

“What does it matter?” Tobirama glares. His skin feels a little flushed, and something is prickling behind his eyes. It’s not an unpleasant sensation, per say, but it is...strange. Hashirama’s movements are easier to track, not that he’s really  _ doing  _ anything, and his eyes feel like they’re burning. It’s starting to hurt - nevermind that not-unpleasant-business.

Hashirama raises his hands in surrender. “No need to activate your sharingan, Madara - I was just asking!”

Tobirama feels himself bristle, crossing his arms and gritting his teeth. He closes his eyes, hoping to will away the sharingan. Tears threaten to spill, so he hastily raises one hand to wipe them away. When he opens his eyes, his older brother has relaxed a tad. “Apologies,” he mutters, not uncrossing his arms. “I haven’t had a great day.” He glances at his hand, trying not to show alarm when he realizes that it had not been tears after all - that was blood. He wipes off his fingers on Madara’s turtleneck, hoping it is dark enough that it won’t be noticed. He will have to investigate this further, but for now he mentally tables the issue.

“And talking to Tobirama will help?” Hashirama sounds skeptical. “You always come back upset when you talk to him,” he points out, pausing for just a moment then sinking into his office chair. “ _ ‘Oh, Hashirama, I think that your little brother hates me!’ _ ” he imitates, and Tobirama shifts uncomfortably. “ _ ‘Why won’t he be my friend?! He can’t even bear to be in the same room as me!’ _ ”

“Anija, I don’t have time for this-” he snaps (the jesting statements don’t exactly make him feel  _ good _ . Maybe he has been a bit of an ass to Madara. So what? He can’t think about that right now. Then he’ll have  _ feelings  _ and those get in the way of accomplishing things). His eyes widen when he realizes his own mistake.  _ Shit. Okay, so maybe he is having feelings.  _

Hashirama raises an eyebrow, a grin slowly spreading across his lips. “Ahahaha, I knew something was fishy here!” he exclaims. “Madara never loses control of his Sharingan like that!” He pauses, his stupid grin only widening. “Tobirama, I can’t believe it!” he grabs him by the shoulders now, eyes shining. “What a stroke of good luck! My two favorite people in the world are soulmates!” 

He is way too happy about this. Tobirama glares. “I’m so glad  _ you’re  _ excited. Just help me find my body, anija, I really don’t have time for this-” he tries to repeat, but he’s cut off.

“Oh. Are you not happy then, Tobirama?” Hashirama’s expression shifts into a frown and he lowers his arms. 

_ That’s a loaded question. _

“Oh no, anija, I’m terribly happy to learn that my soulmate, the person destined for me,  _ hates my guts because I almost shanked his brother, _ ” Tobirama hisses, crossing his arms again. Hashirama has to bite back a smile from the sheer  _ Madara-ness  _ of such an action. He sobers quickly, however.

“You know he doesn’t hate you,” he replies, shaking his head and giving the other man a gentle pat on the shoulder. “I have to be honest, I haven’t seen you - well, him - today. Something tells me he’s using your sensor abilities to avoid you because he thinks you hate  _ him. _ ”

Tobirama shifts uncomfortably. “What on earth gave him that impression?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” replies his anija flippantly. “It couldn’t  _ possibly  _ be the unending avoidance-at-all-costs, or the refusal to talk to him, or the fact that you regularly insult his intelligence, or-”

“ _ I get the point, _ ” Tobirama mutters, leveling Hashirama another glare. “It’s not as if he actively demonstrated he wanted to be friends with me, before this-”

“Because he  _ really  _ got the chance to discuss such a thing with you, didn’t he? I’m telling you Tobirama, he’s been trying to extend a hand for a long time now, you just haven’t let him. You pushing everyone away doesn’t exactly encourage-”

“ENOUGH!” Tobirama shouts, that prickling, burning feeling returning. Blood drips down his cheeks from the active sharingan, and Hashirama’s teasing ceases.

“...That’s just his regular sharingan, why is he bleeding?” he asks, shifting into medic-mode as Tobirama’s chest heaves. All signs of jest have all but disappeared, and his brows furrow as he leans down to inspect the blood on Tobirama’s cheek. 

He’s almost...wheezing. Tobirama grits his teeth and wipes away the blood once more. “I don’t know. It’s probably because I’m currently occupying his body.” He blinks a few times, relieved by the end of the burning behind his eyes. “I don’t have time for this. I’m going to go find him.”

Hashirama frowns, standing up straight again. “I’m unconvinced. You sound like your breathing is heavy - perhaps I should do a quick examination-”

Tobirama sighs, brushing past his older brother with ease to exit the office, ignoring his sputtered protests. No way is he dealing with a medical examination while in Madara’s body - a boundary would be crossed there, and he doesn’t want to break his soulmate’s trust before they’ve even had a proper conversation about this all. His chest is burning with the strain of exertion (well...not exertion, but that's how it feels), but he ignores it. He’ll just have to find Madara on his own, then.


	4. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara and Tobirama are both bad at expressing emotions.

Tobirama’s search leads him to the woods outside of Konoha. Madara is not a good sensor, but he isn’t the worst either. 

Plus, he likes to think he knows  _ a little  _ about Madara. The little he does know is that he regularly frequents this forest to do what would best be described as sulking. It seems reasonable to extrapolate that he would be there now.

Tobirama walks along the path likely created by his older brother (for the less nature-inclined amongst them), placing a hand on his tightening chest.

Either Madara is really out of shape, or something is wrong. Perhaps Hashirama was onto something, there. He runs a hand through Madara’s mop of hair (that is far less tangled now, not to brag or anything) as he trudges on. 

It is a strange sensation, he thinks, to see  _ himself  _ sitting on the ground, leaning up against a tree stump with closed eyes. He’s not wearing the faceplate, or the armour (which Tobirama supposes is fair, given that he didn’t exactly dress up for battle either) - Madara wasn’t exactly trying hard to pretend.

“Madara,” he calls, and the other man tenses. Tentatively, Tobirama approaches, stopping in front of Madara and sitting.

“I was wondering when you would show up,” is the reply. Madara opens his eyes to meet his gaze, not with the expression Tobirama had expected. It’s not a glare, but unreadable. A good sign, maybe. Though, rarely is Madara so guarded. Tobirama decides to err on the side of caution.

“You didn’t make it easy, you know,” Tobirama says, a smile tugging at his lips. “But I’m glad I did. I think, ah...we need to talk.” He’s not great at this whole romance thing, admittedly. This feels more like a business meeting, which isn’t... _ great. _

“Oh,  _ really? _ ”

Madara is teasing him. Lightening the mood somewhat. Unexpected, but not unpleasant. Tobirama supposes he’s never really taken the time to get to know Madara on a level outside of getting paperwork. He snorts. “Maybe.”

Madara grins, though it fades quickly. “I was a bit surprised by the development this morning, I must admit,” he murmurs, “but...I’m not upset.” He says this tentatively, clearly worried about the answer he would receive. Tobirama feels a bit of guilt settle in the pit of his stomach - it’s no surprise that the other man would feel that way if Hashirama’s words were any indication (even if his older brother had been a bit cruel with them).

He raises a brow, unsure if he can really believe it despite the Uchiha’s earnesty. “Really?”

“Why would I say it if I didn’t mean it?” Madara grumbles, reaching out as if to take one of Tobirama’s - well, his own, but you get the point - hands. He stops, however, resting his hand on his lap instead. “Shall we return to our own bodies for this conversation?” he asks. 

Tobirama worries his lip, recognizing vaguely how chapped they are. “Madara, I wanted to ask you something first,” he says. “Hashirama wanted to perform an examination on you - you seem...ill. I told him no for now, but perhaps it wouldn’t hurt for you to see him.” A kind enough approach to the query, he hopes. 

Madara is ready to deny it, but is cut off by Tobirama’s rather violent coughing fit. Tobirama lowers his hand, eyes widening when he sees the blood now staining it. “Madara-” he starts, but the other man gently cradles his face between his palms.

“Hush,” Madara murmurs. Before Tobirama is able to form a proper response (he is far too enraptured by their closeness, by the softness of his touch), the Uchiha has already pressed their lips together, fierce determination in his eyes.

It’s...intimidating. Tobirama’s heart pounds in his chest. He kind of likes it. Madara is surprisingly gentle, the kiss firm but chaste.

(Scratch that. He definitely likes it. It’s not the romantic first kiss in candlelight he’s always heard about, but it’s fitting for them.)

It serves Madara’s purposes well enough too. With a jolt, they are returned to their own bodies, falling away from each other and into the cool grass below. Tobirama shakes off his disorientation, only to see Madara  _ attempting  _ to run away. Stupid bastard.

The key word here being  _ attempting,  _ of course _.  _ He makes it about ten feet before bending to his knees in a coughing fit. He manages to cover his mouth with his elbow, wincing and gritting his teeth. Tobirama shunshins forward ( _ show off _ ), standing in front of Madara and taking both of his hands so that he cannot run away again. He holds them tightly, not veiling his concern. “Madara, come on,” he says, “I know that something is wrong, I  _ felt  _ it. Stop running away.”

Madara refuses to meet his eyes, but allows his hands to be held. “Tch, what would you know,” he mutters, though it is without bite. He knows that it’s stupid - obviously Tobirama knows how it feels now. Still, the petulance is satisfying. His shoulders slump, and he leans forward - almost leaning on Tobirama, but not quite. “Yes, I am sick. It’s hardly something to worry about, I’m just tired,” he says. Tobirama’s brow furrows. 

“Bullshit,” he says.

“Oi, it’s not like you noticed until you realized we’re soulmates, so I don’t want to hear it!” 

“Well now I know so you’re going to hear about it!”

“You’re ridiculous! It’s nothing, alright?”

“You and I both know that it is not ‘nothing!’” 

“IT’S JUST A COLD!”

Tobirama rolls his eyes, letting go of his hands and awkwardly letting them hang by his side. This argument is going nowhere, and Madara is unwilling to open up about it right now, so may as well just move on. “I know it’s more than that,” he says, “but we can table it for now. I think we need to have a different conversation at the moment.” 

“Fair enough,” Madara sighs, running a hand through his hair. He isn’t met with resistance from tangles, which surprises him - Tobirama brushed it? “I wasn’t hiding from you because I dislike you, you know - or because I was unhappy…” his face screws up in frustration as he tries to find the words. “And the kiss was because I know you’re stupid and stubborn and wouldn’t leave my body unless I made you and I didn’t want you to be in pain from an illness that is mine.” He scrunches up his nose (rather cutely, Tobirama thinks privately), his cheeks a little pink. “I figured you probably hated me so I was just trying to prepare myself for that conversation, is all. You avoid me like the damn plague, I didn’t exactly have high hopes.”

Tobirama looks down, chewing his lip. “I suppose I haven’t been the most cordial,” he admits. “I was...startled, this morning, that is for certain.” He sighs. “I thought someone in the heavens must be having a great laugh. They probably are, you know. However, I’m not... _ upset _ by the turn of events either.” 

“Really?” 

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” Tobirama echoes Madara’s words from before. He offers a tentative smile. 

Madara snorts, coughing into his elbow again. “This is going to take some work,” he admits. “I don’t think either of us can just...jump into a relationship and expect it to work out. We hardly know each other, despite my best efforts.”

Tobirama snorts. “Mm...you’re probably right,” he concedes. “Let me take you on a date tonight, then?”

Madara raises a brow. “Didn’t expect you to take charge,” he admits, offering a small smile. The Senju snorts in response, smiling again.

“I’ll swing by your estate around seven,” Tobirama says, and Madara nods.

“I’ll be ready. I expect to be properly wooed, Tobirama Senju.” 

It almost sounds like a threat. Tobirama appreciates the challenge.


	5. Everything is Totally Fine, Actually!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aren't brothers just the worst?

Izuna practically pounces on his older brother when he strides through the door, running up to him and frantically waving his arms. “Aniki, Hashirama has been looking all over for you!! Something about you being sick-”

Madara gives him a tap on the forehead, stopping him in his tracks. “Oh, relax,” he says. “I’m fine, alright? I’ve got a cold and my idiot of a soulmate didn’t take my medicine. Hashirama is just a worry wart.”

Izuna is no longer flapping his arms like a chicken with its head cut off, but he’s staring at Madara with his jaw hanging open. Madara snorts and moves to brush past him, but Izuna grabs his brother’s wrist. “No, no, you don’t get to walk away with no explanation after that.” Madara raises an eyebrow but allows himself to be held.  _ “Who?” _ the younger Uchiha demands.

“Ah...about that…” Madara smiles awkwardly. May as well just get this over with. “Tobirama Senju.”

Izuna is so stunned he relinquishes his hold on his brother’s wrist. “What.”

“Tobirama Senju,” the elder Uchiha repeats, shifting on his feet. “I know it’s a surprise, but please don’t cause a fuss about it-”

“Oh, I won’t cause a fuss,” is the reply, though Izuna is smirking. That was  _ way  _ too easy. Madara groans. Nothing is ever easy with Izuna.

“Whatever you are thinking, forget it,” he grumbles. “We’re going on a date at seven, and I need to get ready, so move it!”

“A date?” the younger brother’s smirk only widens. “Very interesting…”

Madara swats him on the back of the head. “Oh, cut it out. It’s not interesting, so you leave Tobirama be. He’s been nothing but nice about this.”

Izuna narrows his eyes. “Somehow I doubt that, aniki.” His arms are crossed now, and he’s tapping his foot. Not great, but the situation still seems salvageable.

“Do what you want! See if I care, you little menace,” Madara declares, smirking triumphantly. Usually, his little brother buzzes off if he sees he doesn’t care.

“You’re so stupid sometimes,” is the grumbled response. Izuna swats his older brother lightly on the arm. “You better not be lying to me about this cold business. I’m not going to be forgetting about it, you know. I’m not afraid to go to Hashirama about it, either-”

“Oh, you’d better be!” Madara hisses, expression morphing into a glare at the mention of Hashirama, and Izuna has enough self-preservation left in him to bolt for his room (elder brother chasing after him the whole way, of course). “I’ll kick your ass if you go to that moron about it!”

It’s probably not an empty threat.

* * *

Tobirama makes a valiant attempt to sneak into his home in the Senju compound without being caught by his older brother. It is,  _ shockingly _ , unsuccessful. The younger Senju swears his brother has a sixth sense when it comes to him.

_ How annoying. _

“Tobirama! How are you? Is everything okay? Did you and Madara-”

Tobirama pushes his brother out of the way as he enters his kitchen, putting a kettle on for tea. “It’s none of your business,” he replies, getting out two cups for tea.

“Oh, come on Tobi,” whines the hokage. “I want to know the details! Madara came to me  _ crying  _ this morning-”

“What?” that stops Tobirama in his tracks. “He what?”

“I probably shouldn’t have said that.” Hashirama shakes his head, clamping his lips together for effect. Tobirama grits his teeth.

“Explain, anija.” He is crossing his arms, eyes narrowed. Hashirama does not take long to give in (he has famously low resolve when it comes to Tobirama).

“He came to me this morning, is all,” he mumbles. “And he wasn’t full-on sobbing, or anything!” he says hastily. “Just kind of...I don’t know. There were some tears.”

“So I made him cry?”

“No!” Hashirama protests. “He wasn’t crying because of you, just at the circumstances-”

“So because of me,” Tobirama repeats, running a hand through his hair. The whistle of the tea kettle distracts him momentarily from his angst. He pours himself and his brother each a cup then sets it back on the stove. He sets one in front of Hashirama then sits in a chair across from him, putting his own cup down and sullenly resting his chin in his hand. “It’s my fault he was crying. I’m doing a fine job, aren’t I?”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself, Tobi!” Hashirama smiles, attempting to lighten the mood. Clearly, Tobirama isn’t having it, infamous frown only deepening. “It wasn’t you, it was just that he thought you hated him.”

“So he was crying because he thought I hated him, which means that he was crying because of me, anija.”

Hashirama deflates. “No…” he sips his cup of tea now that it has cooled. “I think he was just feeling overwhelmed. He’s happy you’re soulmates.”

“Hm,” is the terse response. Tobirama sighs and lifts his cup to his lips, but does not yet take a sip.

“How did your conversation go?” the older Senju presses, excitement bubbling again. He can’t help himself, really. His two favorite people are soulmates, and sure,  _ they  _ may not have been thrilled, but he sure is.

“Fine,” says Tobirama dismissively. The puppy eyes he receives makes his resolve crumble, however. “It went...well. We kissed. He’s a...good kisser.”

That is putting it mildly, but Tobirama hardly cares to disclose the way his belly had felt on fire during that kiss. Absolutely not. 

“Is he? Hm, I wouldn’t have expected that-”

“Anija!” Tobirama sets his cup down with a decisive  _ thud.  _ “I am not discussing anything more of it with you if you are going to do  _ that.” _

“Do what?!” Hashirama protests.

“Comment upon such things! It’s none of your business whether he’s a good kisser or not-”

“Then why did you say it?!”

“BECAUSE I WANTED TO!”

“Then don’t get mad at me for commenting-”

Tobirama slams his hands on the table as he stands up, interrupting his brother. “I’m going to get ready for my date,” he announces, shoulders tense. “And you are going to leave me alone now. You are going to forget this conversation happened or I won’t be helping you with your paperwork for a week.”

Hashirama sighs dramatically, laying the top half of his body limply on the table. “You’re so cruel to me, Tobirama!” he cries. “Go on your date and leave me alone to  _ rot.”  _ He fakes a sniffle. “Leave me alone to  _ suffer with my paperwork!” _

“You’re a moron.” Tobirama stalks off to his bedroom. He could heat up his tea again later, once the pest was removed from his kitchen. 

_ Wait a minute _ . He grits his teeth, pivoting on his heel and marching right back to the kitchen. “What do you mean, he came crying to you?! You told me you hadn’t seen him!”

Hashirama blanches, smiling awkwardly. “Oh, otouto...I couldn’t betray my best friend like that!” he stands up, inching towards the door. “And honestly I had kind of forgotten until I saw you again-”

“ _ Bullshit, you forgot!”  _ Tobirama hisses, taking a step forward with each of Hashirama’s steps back. “You stupid, incorrigible-”

Hashirama gets the point, and opts to run out of Tobirama’s house before his younger brother gets a chance to finish his thought.


	6. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobirama is awkward. Izuna is a terrible wing man.

Tobirama shifts awkwardly on his feet in front of Madara’s front door. He raises his hand to knock then drops it again, not wanting to seem  _ too  _ eager. He cracks his knuckles, takes a deep breath, then raises his hand again. The door swings open before he even gets a chance to knock, and there stands Izuna.

This was  _ not  _ part of the plan. Oh Kami.

“Izuna,” he manages, trying to sound a little less sanctimonious than usual. He’s uncertain whether he has succeeded or not, but the brat smiles at him anyway.

Oh, that definitely feels menacing.  _ What is he up to? _

“Why hello, Tobirama,” he practically purrs, his eyes shining with something not-quite-benevolent. “I heard you’re here to pick up my brother for a date.”

“...Something like that,” is the mumbled response, Tobirama’s cheeks turning faintly pink. “Is he not here, or something?”

“Oh, he’s here. He’s just getting ready,” the Uchiha examines him from head to toe. “I sensed you out here and just wanted to offer a little warning. If you hurt my brother, I’ll kick your ass, Senju.”

Tobirama grits his teeth. “As if you could.”

Izuna raises a brow, crossing his arms. “I’ve grown stronger since you tried to kill me, you know,” he hisses. “And I know Madara is an adult and can take care of himself and you’re his soulmate -” he cringes at the word, though Tobirama thinks it’s playful, “but he’s the only close family I have left. You break his heart, and I’ll break you.”

The Senju rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Oh, buzz off,” he grumbles, stepping in the doorway and brushing past Izuna. The Uchiha’s expression breaks into a silly grin as he starts laughing.

“Oh, Tobirama, never change,” he says, playfully giving the other man’s arm a squeeze. Tobirama seems surprised by the contact, but smiles in return.

“You’re an idiot,” he replies, snorting. “I thought you were actually pissed there, for a moment.” He looks around the room, trying not to seem too nervous. Madara is nowhere to be seen.

“I mean, I will break you in half if you break aniki’s heart, but I was mostly just messing with you.” Izuna is close behind him after shutting the door. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tobirama waves his friend off, running a hand through his hair. He shifts on his feet again, wringing his hands. “I showed up early, didn’t I? I’m too early. That was a mistake. I’ll have to proceed differently next time-” he squeezes his eyes shut, shoulders tensed. 

“Woah, Senju,” Izuna’s concern is not masked. Tobirama doesn’t know how to feel about that when he opens his eyes again. “Relax,” he says, offering his friend a little smile. “He’s happy about this, you know.”

“That’s the problem, I  _ don’t  _ know,” the Senju shakes his head, twiddling his thumbs now. “I don’t enjoy feeling uncertain about things. That’s not how I function. I can come up with a million logical reasons that he would not be pleased by the revelation, and very few reasons that he would be happy.”

Izuna rolls his eyes. “I know how you are, Tobirama. Just try to relax. Don’t try to control every little thing or you’re going to drive yourself nuts.” He gives his friend a pat on the shoulder, attempting to be comforting. “Between you and me,” he leans in closer, lowering his voice, “aniki isn’t always the most...logical of people. I wouldn’t worry about all those reasons.”

“I don’t think Madara would be very happy with you if he heard that,” is Tobirama’s wry response.

“If I heard what?” Madara asks as he steps into the living room, brow raised.

As cheesy as it sounds, Tobirama later swears his breath caught in his throat at that moment. Madara’s hair is up in a ponytail, messy bangs framing his face. He’s wearing his typical black robe, but his  _ fingernails  _ are painted a delicate grey, his dusty lashes fluttering: everything about him  **just so** . He’s really put  _ effort  _ into this.

The Senju’s cheeks turn pink again.

_ Maybe he should have gussied up as well? Now he looks like he’s not interested! Great, he’s already miscalculated, already messed up. This isn’t good. What if he’s already completely ruined his chances? _

Izuna senses his friend’s panic and tries to remedy the situation. “Oh, I just said that you’re not all that logical and that Tobirama doesn’t need to worry about all the logical reasons your relationship wouldn’t work out!”

Key word being  _ try. _

Tobirama groans, wanting nothing more than to sink into the floor and vanish forever from this situation.

Madara blinks once, twice. “Oh.”

Izuna laughs awkwardly. “I guess I’ll just leave you to it then,” he offers, hunching his shoulders and bowing his head as he shuffles off to his bedroom.

“You...um…look nice,” Tobirama manages, swallowing thickly.

Madara’s brows knit together for a moment, a frown on his face as he steps forward. “Are you trying to distract me from what just happened?” he asks.

The Senju would like to argue that it is in fact Madara who is trying to distract  _ him,  _ but he bites his tongue. “No, no, certainly not. I was just complimenting you.”

“Hm…” Madara takes another step forward, looking up at the other man with narrowed eyes. Tobirama stiffens, ready for Madara to call this whole thing off. Ready for the confirmation that this could not possibly end well. “Well, it worked.”

The Uchiha’s expression shifts into a grin, and the tension breaks. Tobirama runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Asshole,” he mutters, though he returns the smile.

Madara snorts, holding out his hand expectantly. “You really couldn’t tell I was joking?”

“Admittedly not my smartest moment,” Tobirama says, reaching out to take Madara’s hand in his own. 

“So, what are we doing?” Madara asks, looking at their entwined fingers. 

“Well, I hope it doesn’t sound stupid, but I was going to suggest a moonlit picnic.” The Senju’s cheeks are tinged pink as he averts his eyes. He hasn’t exactly done  _ dating  _ before, after all - he’s been waiting for his soulmate (and also definitely distracted by experimenting and creating jutsu. That uh...isn’t exactly conducive to romance). 

Madara’s brows raise, long lashes fluttering as he looks back up at Tobirama. His gaze is intense, making the Senju shift uncomfortably for a moment, but his smile is wide. “I really doubted you, you know - didn’t think you had a romantic bone in your body! Glad to see you proving me wrong.”

Tobirama rolls his eyes and Madara laughs, practically guffawing and nudging the other man on the side. “You’re insufferable, Uchiha,” he grumbles, though there is no true bite to his tone. 

“Ditto,  _ Senju.  _ Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to take me on our date?”

Tobirama snorts, giving Madara’s hand a squeeze before relinquishing his grip to hold open the door instead.

Madara is not what he expected. He’s blustery, he’s loud, and he likes to shout. He’s got a surprisingly good sense of humor, he’s self-deprecating, and he’s surprisingly tender when he wants to be. The feeling of Madara’s hand in his own…

His cheeks turn pink again, and Madara flashes a grin at him as he walks outside, and Tobirama realizes he is  _ definitely  _ not unhappy about this soulmate business.

* * *

Tobirama has made a tactical error.

The picnic blanket is a  _ lot  _ smaller than he’d initially thought.

_ Oops. _

For his part, Madara does not seem to be complaining. He’s settled quite cozily beside the Senju, legs crossed as he sips the glass of wine he’s been nursing for at least a half an hour now. 

(So, maybe he’s not comfortable getting full on  _ drunk  _ around Tobirama yet - that’s fair.)

The food was gone a lot quicker than the alcohol, not that Tobirama can really take the credit for that. Had he picked something up from a restaurant and packed it into the picnic basket rather than risk poisoning  _ his other half  _ with his abysmal cooking? Absolutely. Based upon Madara’s contented sigh as he leans on Tobirama’s shoulder, he’s satisfied.

His hair is splayed across the Senju’s shoulders, his legs stretched out languidly across the picnic blanket and out into the grass. This is more relaxed than Tobirama has ever seen him.

It’s reassuring. 

“Thank you for the meal,” Madara murmurs, long lashes dusting his cheeks as he briefly closes his eyes. “This is the nicest date I’ve ever been on.”

“Isn’t it the only date you’ve ever been on?”

“Don’t ruin the moment,” the Uchiha chides, nudging Tobirama in the ribs and eliciting a snort. “Just take the compliment, you moron.”

“Tch. Only if you’ll take one from me.”

Madara sits up straight at that, sliding across from Tobirama now and setting the emptied wine glass in the picnic basket. “Are you insinuating that I’m bad at accepting compliments?” he asks, folding his arms across his chest - as if it’s ludicrous to imply that Madara Uchiha is bad at  _ anything. _

“Yes,” Tobirama deadpans, expression flat. The other man puffs his cheeks.

“Well, you’re wrong, so shut the fuck up.”

“Would you like to be proven wrong?” the Senju replies, and Madara glares at him.

“...I won’t be,” he grumbles, sticking out his tongue as he rummages around in the picnic basket until he takes out a stick of orange flavored dango. “I’ve never heard you say anything nice about me anyway, Senju, I doubt you can make me pause.”

_ Ouch.  _

“Well,” Tobirama begins, ignoring the comment for now, “I think that you’re one of the most important people in the village. You’re intelligent, strong, and loyal to a fault. You might be quick to anger but your ideas have been fantastic so far, and I think you would make a fantastic nidaime even if you don’t want the position.” He leans over to press a kiss to Madara’s cheek before continuing, “not to mention, you’re wildly attractive, and I do wish you would stop being so self-deprecating.”

Madara looks akin to a tomato as he tries to muster a response, nearly choking on the dango in his mouth. He swallows, then he scoffs, glaring at the ground instead of meeting the Senju’s eyes. “Oh, you know none of that is true,” he mutters, crossing his arms. “You’ve done nothing but avoid me for years, and most of the village doesn’t like me. I would make a dreadful hokage, everyone’s too worried about my  _ inherent evil,  _ and all that.” He sighs, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. “You hated me until this morning, so I don’t know where this is all coming from.”

“I didn’t hate you until this morning,” Tobirama says, looking down at his hands and clasping them together. “I’m just...bad with emotions,” he admits.

“Tobirama,” Madara looks at him now, cheeks still a little red. “If you were in a room and I entered it, you left unless you were absolutely unable to. In every single meeting we’ve been in together, you’ve taken the opportunity to yell at me about something or other,” he pauses for a moment to add, “not that I haven’t yelled back, of course, but…” he shrugs. “You made it very clear to me that you only accepted peace for Hashirama, not the Uchiha, and  _ certainly  _ not me.”

Tobirama chews his lip, meeting the other man’s gaze. “I know.”

“And you expect me to believe your compliments?”

(Nevermind the fact that he’s proven Tobirama correct.)

“They’re honest,” the Senju insists, the pout on his face eerily similar to Hashirama. “I avoided you and yelled at you because you’re attractive, and I’m bad at emotions and feelings and my way of dealing with the fact that I was attracted to you was...that.”

“Is that your version of an apology?” Madara asks, leaning in closer. There is a playful smile on his lips, and Tobirama feels his cheeks heat up.

“...I suppose it is,” Tobirama says, returning the smile. 

“Hm…” Madara chuckles, stopping when their lips almost touch. “In that case, I  _ suppose  _ I can forgive you.”

_ This man will be the death of him,  _ Tobirama thinks vaguely, his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he initiates the kiss this time.

It’s softer than the last one, and slower too. Tentatively, Tobirama reaches a hand up to thread it through Madara’s hair. It’s just as soft in his own fingers, though tangled again. In response, the Uchiha threads his arms around his waist. They break away for breath, and Madara’s smile is sweet as he laughs again. 

“I think this will work after all,” he murmurs, settling himself beside Tobirama again and resting his head on his shoulder. 

Tobirama reaches down to take the other man’s hand, clasping it between both of his own. “You never actually accepted my compliments, you know,” he comments, unable to help his smirk. Madara practically squawks as he pushes Tobirama away and stands up.

“Bastard!” He whines, straightening out his robes and pursing his lips. “You ruined the moment!”

“I would argue that you’re the one who ruined the moment by getting up,” he counters, leaning back on his hands and laughing. 

“Stupid Senju,” Madara grumbles, though he can’t help his little smile. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Tobirama. Since you’re going to be an asshole, you can clean this all up yourself.” He leans down to give the other man another little kiss on the lips.

Tobirama watches his soulmate walk back towards Konoha, unable to help his laughter. 

Madara was not what he expected, no. It’s not like he’s really complaining.


	7. Being Honest.  Kind of.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ITS JUST A COLD I SWEAR- or not.

It takes about a month for Madara to feel confident enough to open up to his soulmate about his “cold.”

In an absolutely shocking turn of events, it is not just a cold.

“It’s a cough that lingers,” Madara explains vaguely, staring down at the paperwork on his desk rather than at the Senju standing in front of him. “And when I don’t take my medicine - which, you didn’t take that day you were in my body, so don’t yell at ME for that one - I’ll cough blood sometimes. It’s hardly a big deal.”

“I would argue that it is, in fact, a big deal.”

“You would argue about just about anything, and for fun. So excuse me if I don’t accept your argument,” the Uchiha grumbles, glaring at the document that Tobirama slides in front of him.

“Just sign it. It’s about who my brother wants to be his successor.”

Madara waves him off as he signs his name, not even bothering to read it. He still hasn’t gotten glasses, so it would’ve been a pain in the ass anyway. “Yes, yes.”

“Did you even read it?” Tobirama asks as he takes it back, quirking a brow. 

“Sure, yes, I did.”

“No you didn’t.” He rolls his eyes, though there is a smile on his face. “Your eyes bled that day, too. Hashirama was very concerned.”

“Yes, well, sharingan do tend to do that,” the Uchiha’s response is flippant. Tobirama isn’t having it.

“...Mangekyou sharingan. You bled from your regular sharingan.”

“Yes, and you hadn’t taken my medicine, that’s just another side effect!”

“From your...cough. Your cough makes your eyes bleed.”

“Yes. I don’t see the problem,” Madara grumbles, flicking through the other papers on his desk. 

“...Probably because your vision is terrible,” Tobirama says wryly, tapping his foot. “You’re insufferable, Madara. Please let Hashirama do an examination - you’re  _ sick.  _ There is something wrong.”

“That’s very rude, Senju.” 

“So is calling me Senju when we’ve been dating for a month, but here we are.”

Madara groans, slumping in his chair and throwing his hands in the air. “Fine! But when you don’t like the news, don’t come crying to me!”

“I just want to know what I can do to help you,” Tobirama murmurs, reaching forward to tuck a piece of Madara’s hair behind his ear. The blustery front fades a bit, and Madara sighs.

“I know,” he says, resting his hands on the desk and managing a small smile. “It’s always been so much easier to just take my cough suppressants and pretend nothing is happening. It’s a difficult habit to break.”

“You were barely eating, for awhile there.”

“I was hoping you hadn’t noticed that,” he averts his eyes. “I’ve gotten better, you know. Much better! Brunch and dinner.” He puffs his cheeks out. “I was...not the happiest, and I’m hardly  _ cured -  _ just better at managing it now, I suppose.”

“I suspected as much.” Tobirama sighs, sitting down in the chair across from Madara’s desk now. This conversation isn’t going to be a quick one. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“You ask difficult questions.”

“You always say I’m a difficult man, I may as well live up to my title.”

This at least musters a chuckle from the Uchiha. “Idiot,” he murmurs, though his tone is more fond than biting. “Because I feel...unimportant, at times. No one was paying attention, and it reinforced the behavior. Reinforced the thought that I...was unimportant.” He shrugs, twiddling his thumbs.

_ He’s trying to downplay it. _

“You’re one of the most important people in the village, Madara,” Tobirama says, his brows furrowed. “You are important. You know that, right?”

“Tch,” Madara rolls his eyes. “I think we both know it is you and your brother who are the most important ones.”

“You really are absolutely awful at accepting compliments.” Tobirama chews his lip. “We care about you. I’m...very sorry if my behavior fed into your self-doubt.”

“Oi, it’s not your fault, stupid,” Madara waves him off. “I’m not wrong, anyway - if I were to leave, would anyone follow? Would anyone care? Would anyone try to  _ talk to me?” _

The thought is...troubling. Deeply troubling. “I would,” he replies, leaning forward. “Madara, you’re not thinking of leaving, are you?”

“If we were not soulmates - if you were unaware that we were soulmates - would you follow?” the Uchiha demands, eyes narrowed.

“...no,” Tobirama admits, bowing his head in shame. “No...I would not.”

“I’m not leaving,” Madara says, resting his chin on his hand. “I have no desire to. I’m merely making a point.”

Tobirama’s nostrils flare and he leans forward. “Can you please listen to me, just this once?”

“I listen to you all the time!”

The Senju pinches the bridge of his nose. “Madara. You. Are. Important. You matter to this village, you matter to us, you matter to  _ me.” _ He wets his chapped lips. “You’re my other half. I know...I know you don’t like compliments, but allow this at least. You’re just as much a founder of this village as Hashirama and I.”

Madara’s face scrunches for a moment, but shortly his shoulders sag and he hangs his head. “...It’s difficult to believe, even if logically it is true,” he says. “Of course - of course I am important. I am powerful, I am the only one equal to Hashirama, I helped build this village and name it and…” his fingernails dig into the wood of his desk, “and yet, I feel like a charlatan. My mind simply will not cooperate with logic in this matter.”

Tobirama’s expression softens, and he reaches forward to take Madara’s hands in his own. He gives them a comforting squeeze. “I know,” he says softly. “That’s why I’m here to tell you when your mind is lying to you.”

Madara eyes him with suspicion for a moment before squeezing back, his lower lip quivering. “Yes,” he manages, voice thick with emotion he is unwilling to fully display, “Yes, well...you know I will do the same for you, Tobirama. Don’t ever hesitate to ask.”

The Senju nods, saying nothing more for now. It was a good conversation - rarely is Madara willing to discuss emotions (as if he is any better, really), and this was a lot for him.

“Would you like to get dinner tonight?”

“Mhm,” Madara agrees, looking down at their hands and smiling. “I’ll buy.”

“Let me buy this time?”

“Absolutely not, Senju,” he grumbles, and Tobirama snorts.

“I’m the one who asked you-”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m buying.”

Well. No use arguing when Madara sets his mind to something like this. No matter what, he’ll just march up to their poor waiter and order them not to accept Tobirama’s money, the stubborn bastard.

* * *

“I told you you wouldn’t be happy about the results of my appointment,” Madara comments as he scrubs their dirty dishes from last night.

It has been about a week since that conversation, but Tobirama still remembers the warning. He sighs, looking up from his cup of tea. “Care to elucidate me?”

“Your brother was...displeased with me, for using a cough suppressant. Apparently it’s done ‘more harm than good,’” the Uchiha grumbles, the dishes clanging together as he sets some on the dish rack to dry. “It’s...something chronic. That’s all we really know. I should be fine with treatment, but it’s not exactly...great news.” He finishes scrubbing the last dishes and blows them dry with a carefully placed katon. “Sorry about that.”

  
  


“Why on earth are you sorry for being sick?” Tobirama asks, though he knows the likely answer. It would be his own, were their positions flipped. He sighs again and shakes his head. “Nevermind. New question: can I buy you dinner tonight?”

“You’re such a moron, Senju,” Madara snorts and washes his hands with the expensive soap (orange hibiscus, or something - a gift from Tobirama). He wipes his hands off on his pants then sits next to Tobirama at the table, resting his chin on his hand and he leans on the table. “Fine.”

Tobirama’s chest puffs up and he smirks. “Thank you.” He pauses for a moment, reluctant to ask at first. “...What did Hashirama tell you to do?”

“Stop taking the cough suppressants, for one,” the other man replies, puffing his cheeks out. “Which seems counter-intuitive to me, you know? I shouldn’t stop taking it, if I do I’ll be coughing constantly and annoying everyone.” He scrunches his nose. 

“But Hashirama told you to stop?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to?” 

“...I would prefer to keep taking them,” Madara mumbles, refusing to meet Tobirama’s eyes. “He also told me I should probably avoid going on missions for a little while. And no dancing either - so I suppose we can’t spar…” he throws his hands up in the air in exasperation. “Evidently I can’t have any fun.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” Tobirama says, though his tone is teasing. “You deserve to take a break anyway, Madara.”

“I don’t WANT to take a break,” Madara shoots his partner a glare. “I’m perfectly fine! Blood buildup in my lungs is  _ hardly  _ the commotion that Hashirama is making it out to be!”

Tobirama wants to slam his head on the table, but resists the urge. “Would you care to run that by me again?”

“No.”

“Madara.”

“IT’S NOTHING!”

“IT’S OBVIOUSLY NOT NOTHING!”

Madara grits his teeth, slamming his hands down on the table and standing up. “I have blood built up in my lungs that I have to cough out and that’s why I can’t take the cough suppressants and I shouldn’t be using any katon jutsu and I shouldn’t be physically exerting myself. It’s stupid! I’m fine! I’ve been fine for years and I’m not going to just sit around and do nothing all day!” His chest is heaving at this point and his eyes are wide. 

Tobirama swallows the lump in his throat as he stands up as well. “ _ Recovery is not nothing, Madara,”  _ he says, voice soft in contrast to his partner. “Hashirama just wants what’s best for you, as do I. I’ll keep you company as much as you want - I’m sure Izuna and my brother will do the same. You’ll get to a stable point and it’ll be  _ fine.” _

Madara’s shoulders slump and he closes his eyes, biting down sharp enough on his lip to draw a bit of blood. “I don’t need babysat, for fuck’s sake. I’m an adult.”

“I’m not implying that we’re going to  _ babysit  _ you, you shithead.” Tobirama rolls his eyes. “Just keep you company so that you don’t get lonely.”

“Tch, me, get  _ lonely, _ ” he grumbles, kicking the ground and crossing his arms. “Don’t be stupid. I’ll be fine. I just don’t like being useless.”

“You’re not useless. You just need to take a break and heal.” The Senju tries to offer a comforting smile. He’s pretty sure anyone else would have just scoffed at him in response, but Madara returns the smile.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess I can do that,” he muses. He sighs. “I won’t like it though. I’ll complain the whole time and be generally an ass.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Tobirama replies, snorting and leaning in to press a kiss to Madara’s cheek. “Just...don’t hurt yourself. Please.”

“Mm, I’ll be fine,” Madara mumbles, cheeks flushed pink. “You’re just a worry wart.” To emphasize his point he elbows his partner in the side before shuffling his way to the bedroom. “Are you coming, or not?” he calls after a few moments.

Tobirama doesn’t need to be told twice.


	8. Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara is sexy. Not pictured: Tobirama is also sexy.

Tobirama had not exactly _planned_ on having to leave a month into Madara’s “vacation” for a mission.

Nor had he planned on it taking two weeks. 

It is late at night. Still, he’s been gone for awhile. He supposes it is only natural that he has ended up in front of Madara’s home in the Uchiha Compound. 

He knocks on the door, admittedly not expecting an answer. 

The door creaks open to reveal Madara, who is currently rubbing his eyes and squinting up at Tobirama. His face is illuminated by the candle in his hand, the flame flickering in the cool air. His hair is draped across his shoulders, sticking up in odd places, and his yukata is loosely tied.

“Sorry I’ve stopped by so late,” the Senju says, his smile sheepish as he realizes he must have woken his partner up.

He watches the Uchiha’s face light up as he recognizes who is here. Madara smiles, smoothing back his hair in an attempt to fix it into place. He quickly masks his excitement, puffing his cheeks out into a pout. “Yeah, yeah. You’re here now, so you may as well come in,” he grumbles, holding the door open as Tobirama steps inside. His partner snorts.

“Good to see you too,” he says, removing his sandals and slipping out of his armor. Madara waves him off, rolling his eyes. 

“Forgive me for not giving a proper welcome home, fanfare and all, at one in the morning.”

“I suppose I could find it in my heart,” Tobirama says, a wry smile on his lips as he follows the other man to the bedroom. 

Madara pinches the candle out, the moonlight coming in from the window gently lighting the room. He sets the candlestick down on his dresser, allowing his yukata slip to the floor. Tobirama’s breath catches in his throat - yes, his partner _is_ wearing pants, but still.

Madara is stunning.

A few months of self care has made all the difference.

The Uchiha has always been beautiful, of course, in a wild and dangerous sort of way. His prowess on the battlefield, the way he _dances_...well, it’s hard to argue that he isn’t. 

His partner holds himself far more confidently now - hell, he’s pretty sure Madara just _smirked_ at him as he crawled under the covers.

So not fair.

“Are you going to just stare at me, or come cuddle me?” Madara challenges, shifting onto his side to face away from him as his hair is splayed across his pillow. 

“I mean, staring does sound nice,” Tobirama replies, cheeks tinged pink as he removes his faceplate and sets it on the nightstand. “But I suppose I could join you.” He climbs into bed beside him, moving some of that mop of hair so that he can rest his chin on Madara’s shoulder. 

One perk to Madara being shorter - Tobirama gets to be the big spoon. Madara makes a soft sound of content as Tobirama wraps his arms snugly around his chest. 

“Good choice,” the Uchiha mumbles, closing his eyes and tugging one of the blankets over them. 

“How have you been doing?” Tobirama asks. An attempt to ask about his illness without being too direct. Madara has never been very good with...direct. 

“Better,” Madara says. “I haven’t taken the cough suppressants, so I’ve been getting better. At least, that’s what your brother says.” He shrugs. “Izuna threw all of mine away, and Hashirama declared it illegal to sell me any more.” 

The Senju can’t help his laughter, hiding his face in Madara’s hair briefly as he does so. “That sounds like our brothers,” he muses. Madara laughs as well, the sound warming Tobirama’s heart.

“Oh, you’re right. They’re both so boorish, you know. Really, this _‘vacation’_ has been ludicrous. I was fine! But the only _activity_ I’ve had since you left was taking a walk once a day,” he grumbles, curling his legs. “But Hashirama says that I’ll be cleared for missions again soon enough, so long as I continue taking the medicine he’s given me and agree to breathing treatments.”

“That’s good news.” Tobirama gives his partner a squeeze. “Thank you for not being a stubborn asshole for once.”

That earns him an elbow to the stomach which, honestly, he deserves. He still lets out a rather dramatic “ow!”

“Idiot Senju,” Madara laughs again, adjusting his pillow and shifting into a comfortable position. “I’ll tell you more in the morning, and I certainly expect to hear all about your mission over breakfast, too.”

“It wasn’t very exciting,” his partner says into his shoulder, closing his eyes. “But being home with you is.”

“Sap,” Madara accuses, though his tone is light. They fall into a comfortable silence for a moment before he adds, “I’m glad you’re home too.” 


	9. Paperwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara accidentally agrees to become hokage. Tobirama supports this.

To say that Madara regrets signing that  _ simple paperwork  _ for Tobirama all those years ago is, well,  _ an understatement. _

Apparently he’d agreed to be the Second Hokage, or something like that, because Hashirama is retiring and everyone is looking at  _ him  _ to take charge. All because of those stupid papers.

And, according to the Senju brothers, his  _ strength, cunning, and ability to rule _ , but what do they know?

“TOBIRAMA!” he yells from the spot behind the hokage desk (he refuses to acknowledge it as his), slamming his hands on it and sending most of the paperwork flying.

One thing the brothers had not taken into account: Madara gets to choose his assistant. 

Tobirama makes a wildly sexy assistant. He’s also quite efficient at getting paperwork done. Said Senju pokes his head into the office, dramatically groaning at the paper laying on the ground. 

“Pray tell, what warranted you screaming?” he asks, his exasperation evident.

“I need your help.”

“With  _ what _ ?” the Senju steps fully into the room, crossing his arms. He shuts the door behind him.

He’s used to his husband being belligerent and stupid, but Madara has certainly been...frustratingly obstinate about this. 

“I can’t accept this position,” Madara says, sinking down into his chair. “I’m - I’m not suited for it. We all know it should be you.” He runs a hand through his hair, brows furrowed as he glares at the ground beside Tobirama’s feet. 

“Madara…”

“No, no. Listen,” the Uchiha slumps forward to lean on the desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not like Hashirama. People don’t have the same belief in me. You would be a better successor.”

“So you called me in here to tell me I should take the job that Hashirama has chosen  _ you  _ for.”

“Yes.”

“Then - no.” 

Madara scoffs. “Ridiculous man. Was it not you who said I would never become hokage, and that everyone knows it?”

He knows bringing it up isn’t  _ great.  _ It’s probably better to say it than to let it fester, though.

“That was a long time ago,” Tobirama says, averting his eyes.

“Ah, but it remains said,” Madara replies. He casts a perfunctory glance at the papers on his desk again. So much to do already.

“I was wrong.” He steps forward, placing his hands on top of Madara’s. “This village - if we seek to create balance, seek to create equal power between the Uchiha and the Senju - you are the one to take the mantle, Madara. It’s what Hashirama wants.” He pauses momentarily before adding, “and it’s what I want too.”

“Surely, you taking it would bring greater stability,” Madara argues, meeting his husband’s eyes. “Or perhaps someone else from my clan - maybe Izuna?”

“You are really that against this?” Tobirama studies his expression, and Madara sighs.

“I simply think you ascribe me ability I do not possess.” 

“I see.” Tobirama frowns, letting go of one of Madara’s hands to tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear. “Not to be a contrarian, but I think you’re wrong.” 

“Yes, well, you  _ are  _ an idiot most of the time, so that makes sense,” Madara grumbles, though his cheeks are warm. “I don’t see this ending well, is all. Especially if word about my sickness gets out.”

Tobirama worries his lip. “I suppose that is a fair concern,” he admits. “Though - it is hardly as if it impedes your ability to fight now that you’re actually  _ taking care of yourself. _ ” He gives his husband a pointed look, and Madara waves him off. 

“Yes,  _ we  _ know that. But if I get a coughing fit during a meeting or something, what will the elders think - let alone the other kages! We shouldn’t be risking the future of Konoha just so that I can wear the hat.”

“Madara.” Tobirama shakes his head, offering him a soft smile. “You are going to do a fantastic job. You deserve this. Stop trying to tell yourself otherwise.”

Madara swallows, looking away from his husband’s intense stare. “You flatter me,” he mumbles, licking his lips. “I suppose I don’t really have a choice here,” he says. “I’ll accept the position. I’ll continue to complain about it, but I’ll do it.” 

His husband’s face lights up with a smirk. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.” He leans over to desk to capture Madara’s lips in a kiss.

They part, eyes shining, and Madara laughs breathlessly. “Is this why you closed the door?”

“Well, if I am to be your ‘sexy’ assistant, I may as well live up to my title,” Tobirama answers, sliding himself around the desk to straddle Madara’s waist. “If you’ll let me,  _ Hokage-sama.” _

Madara’s breath hitches.  _ Ah. Well. Tobirama certainly knows how to push his buttons.  _ “Bastard,” he hisses, though he cannot help his smile as Tobirama leans in to kiss his neck. The smug asshole probably knew all along he’d take it.

“You love me though,” his husband murmurs as he threads his fingers through Madara’s hair again, giving a little tug that sends a shiver up his spine.

“Well, you’ve got me there. I do love you, you insufferable  _ ass _ .” He tilts his head to the side to give said insufferable ass better access to his neck. Tobirama happily capitalizes on this, his kisses there growing more languid. 

“ _ I’m  _ the insufferable one?” he says, chuckling quietly as he unzips the collar of Madara’s robe enough to slide it down.

“Yes!” Madara says, cheeks heating up despite the cool air hitting his bare chest. “You’re stripping me in my  _ office _ , I think you fit the definition quite well-”

Tobirama places a finger on Madara’s lips to silence him. “You’re talking too much. And thinking too much. I’m supposed to be the one who overthinks things, you know. Aren’t you the spontaneous one?”

“Yes, but-”

Tobirama snorts. “Madara. Won’t you let your wildly sexy husband and assistant make your first day as hokage special?” 

“Tobirama,” he whines as Tobirama’s hands drift further south. “I-” he cuts himself off, cheeks bright red. “Fine. We just...have to be quiet,” he says, obviously flustered.

Sure, he and Tobirama have been...intimate... _ plenty  _ of times. Never in such a public place, though. He’s not shy, but still -

Tobirama laughs. “Mm, I think you’ll be the one who has a difficult time there, Madara.”

Madara bristles, puffing his cheeks. “I will get you back for this,” he grits out, trying not to betray exactly what Tobirama is busying himself with. 

“I look forward to it.”


End file.
